This Is Who I Am (Take Me or Leave Me)
by nobutsiriuslywhat
Summary: Darcy does what she has to.
1. Chapter 1

She's not proud of what she does but it pays the bills and that's all she cares about. It pays the mounting medical cost and makes sure her mother it taken care of. That's what matters. That's _all _that matters, she tells herself as she cakes on her makeup and prepares to go on stage.

God, she hates this. She hates herself for doing this. The only thing that she can actually say she's proud of is that she hasn't fallen victim to the vices the other girls have. She's walked in on most of them snorting something from the table in the dressing room. They've offered her some but she always says no. And she also refuses to prostitute herself out to the men who come here. Sure, management has tried, repeatedly, but Darcy always stood her ground. She may take her clothes off for money, but that's all she'll do. She still has her self-respect. Or whatever is left of it.

After her turn on stage, she makes the rounds to see if anyone wants a dance. No one usually does. Word had spread that she keeps her legs closed and they don't want to waste their money, but she doesn't care. She gets enough tips while she's dancing. They may hate that she won't fuck them, but they certainly show their appreciation for her body.

She was careful not to show her disappointment when she didn't see her favorites out there. And then she promptly kicked herself for thinking that. But she couldn't stop herself from making one more sweep of the room, that maybe they were sitting in one of the darker corners.

No luck. Her shoulders slumped.

Stop it, Darcy.

They'd been coming here for weeks now. She didn't know when they'd arrived but they never stayed much after her shift (she would see them leaving as she walked to the bus stop). They told her about themselves, too. Tony took over his father's multi-billion dollar company and Bruce was a highly sought after biochemist. She'd seen their pictures in various magazines, so she knew they were telling the truth.

And, God help her, she _liked _them. They never made her feel dirty or unwanted. Never judged. She could tell they didn't like how she was treated and told her she deserved better. Darcy would always shrug and say that she did what she had to do. Not everyone was lucky to be born into money (Tony) or have a ridiculously high paying job (Bruce). She didn't get the sadness, though, when they looked at her.

In return, she never judged them. Never asked why two men so clearly in love came to a strip club and just paid to talk to her. Never anything else. Just conversations that Darcy found herself looking forward to (stupidly). And they tipped her well for it. Too well, but she was just selfish enough to keep the money.

They asked her how she got started there and she told them the truth. She told them about her mom and the hospital bills, that insurance wouldn't pay for most of the treatment because they didn't deem it necessary (how is something that is actually saving someone's life _elective?_).

And also stupid? Developing feelings for them. Yeah, that was really fucking stupid.

They asked, gently, why she wasn't doing something else and she asked what else she was qualified for. She was in the middle of her junior year of college when her mom got sick and she dropped everything to take care of her. No one would hire her, and she made more doing this than working in fast food. She had shrugged and said that apparently she was good at it.

Darcy sat in the dingy dressing room, cleaning the makeup off her face. She hated leaving with it on, made her feel even dirtier. If there were a shower, she would have used that too. But this place barely had locks on the door and she was sure she saw a rat the other day, so a shower? Laughable concept. She'd shower when she got back to her equally disgusting apartment.

Throwing the makeup remover wipes away, she started hearing noises. And not the usual noises. Not the signs and moans of a "patron" going too far, or the giggles and excited shrieks (some of them were great actors), of the girls.

She's not sure how the fight started, probably just some drunk customer wanting to get too much for his money. Or someone was being cut off at the bar. It didn't matter, though, what the cause was.

The sounds of fighting were getting louder, more people getting involved. Darcy flinched when she heard a loud crash, louder than just a glass breaking on the floor. She didn't want to know what it was. Gathering her stuff as fast as she could, her heart in there throat the entire time, she made her way to the back exit. She was _not _getting involved in this.

The door didn't budge.

What the fuck?!

She pulled harder but it didn't budge. _Shit. _

Turning around, she started moving towards the door that would take her to the main room. The closer she got the louder the noises became, and the more nervous she became. By the time she reached the door, her heart was in her throat and she was doing her best not to panic. It sounded like a full blown riot out there.

Okay, plan. What's her plan? Open the door and run as fast as possible to the exit. That seemed like a good plan.

She opened the door and wanted to throw up with fear.

It _was_ a riot. Chairs were being thrown, the girls were being tossed around and the bouncers were doing fuck all to stop it. She flinched as a beer bottle collided with the wall right next to her, close enough that some of the glass hit her face.

New plan, stay as low and as close to the wall as possible. There was no other way out. She was not running into the middle of all that.

She ducked and covered her head as another bottle exploded against the wall, alcohol soaking her hair. Great, she'd be lucky if they let her on the bus as this point.

Nope, correction; she'd be lucky to make it out of here alive.

Taking a deep breath and trying not to vomit, she started crawling towards the door, her side practically glued to the wall.

She'd gone no more than ten feet when a hand reached down and pulled her up.

Darcy screamed, trying to make herself as small as possible, and covered her face.

"No, hey, it's okay. It's just me," the voice yelled, trying be heard over all the noise.

Lowering her arms, she peaked at the man in front of her. Tony. Oh thank god. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, that she was safe.

"Get me _out _of here," she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.

He nodded. "That's the plan, sweetheart. Bruce, you ready?" he asked, and that's when she noticed the presence behind her.

Darcy turned as if to double check and tried to give him a smile. He gave her a nod and then was flush against her back, as if to use his body as a shield.

Solidly placed between the two men, they made their way out of the club. Tony had deflected a bar stool that was on a collision course and she could feel Bruce moving behind her, but she didn't dare turn around to look.

Once they were safely outside (and Darcy could hear the approaching sirens), she nearly stumbled as relief hit, but they didn't stop walking until they were a block away from the chaos.

When they stopped, Tony immediately turned around and gathered her in his arms. She sunk into his embrace. "You're safe," he whispered in hear ear, and it sounded like he was telling himself that as much as he was her.

She didn't care who he was saying it to, she was just glad it was true.

He slowly let her go and turned her around so that she faced Bruce, who immediately swept her up as well. He buried his face in her neck, ignoring the alcohol dripping from her hair, and just held her close.

Darcy felt safe with both of them and never wanted to let go. She turned her face until her cheek was against his chest and looked at Tony.

"I can't…you didn't…_thank you_," she could barely get the words out. They didn't feel adequate enough for what they did. They saved her life, she has no doubt.

Tony didn't say anything, just stepped close and hugged her from behind. She closed her eyes and savored their touch. She hadn't been touched so gently in so long that she had forgotten what it felt like.

"Let's go home," Bruce said, just loud enough for them all to hear.

Darcy slumped (well, as much as she could while sandwiched in between them) and nodded. "Yeah, I should…go. The bus…" she trailed off, trying to figure out what time it was. If the bus had already left or if she'd have to wait. She wanted to cry.

"No," Tony spoke up. "We want you to come home with us. Where you'll be safe. You can take a shower, we'll make you something to eat, and then you can go to bed. We can talk about everything in the morning." Well, he had this all thought out.

It took Darcy all of three seconds to agree.

* * *

reviews are awesome (and very greatly appreciated!)

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	2. Chapter 2

The first time they went into the strip club was an accident.

No, really, it was. They had been out walking around after going to dinner when they realized they were being followed by press and they ducked into the first building they came across.

It wasn't anything new, being hounded by press and paparazzi, ever since they came out as couple. The world had been fascinated with Tony's life ever since he came out from the shadows and took over his father's company. Gay (bisexual really, but they didn't seem to care to get that right) CEO's were much talked about apparently.

Then he met Bruce. They had managed to keep their relationship out of the papers for a few months before some tourist got a lucky picture of them strolling around central park hand-in-hand. It wasn't even the first time they had done that. Tony found it calming after being in some of those board meetings and Bruce was happy to indulge him.

And, well, since then? They were fodder for the papers and they _hated _it. Tony has even said so. A lot. As a result, he wasn't really allowed to talk to the press anymore (not that that stopped him).

So, yes, ending up in that strip club? Complete accident.

Looking back, they don't regret it.

After they walked in, they quickly found a darkened corner and decided to wait a while. They were hoping they weren't seen when they came in or the pictures in tomorrow's paper would be interesting.

Not that they would care all that much.

The strung out dancer on stage was just finishing her set and it took only seconds for the next dancer to take her place.

Tony paused mid-sentence and stared. It wasn't even that this woman was gorgeous (because she was), she just looked so sad and lost. It tore at his heart, which was weird because the only other person he'd had such an instant, heartfelt, reaction to was Bruce.

Who was also staring.

Huh.

They watched her dance and while they were struck by the fluidity of her movements, it was clear she'd rather be anywhere else. She wouldn't make eye contact with the men around the stage, but she did her job and got right down there to collect the bills being waved at her. She tried to keep her body as far away from the grabbing hands as possible, but she wasn't always successful. Tony saw Bruce clench a fist when an overly excited "fan" started pinching, but relaxed minutely when she quickly moved away.

They left as she was collecting her top from the stage, both confused by what they felt.

When they went back the next three times, it definitely wasn't an accident.

All they would do was sit there, watching. Never getting close enough to touch because they refused to do that to her. She was not a happy woman and they didn't like that. Wouldn't add to it.

It was clear that she was just about the only sober one who worked in the whole damn place. Her eyes were always clear, always sad. Her body didn't have the look of one ravaged by drugs, but they could tell it had been a while since she'd had a good meal. A body like hers was supposed to have curves you could get lost exploring.

They could hear the comments made about her ("frigid bitch" and "dumb whore") when she resolutely refused to _accommodate_ some of the customers. She either didn't hear them or didn't care what they said. But Bruce and Tony did.

The next time they went in they did buy some of her time, if only to keep her away from the salivating dogs waiting for her to be free.

She led them to a little room in the back and closed the curtain. As soon as she say they were seated, she started dancing.

They stopped her. The look of confusion on her face quickly turned to anger and she said, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't care what they were in to she was _not _going to fuck them.

Bruce assured her that wasn't it, that they just wanted to talk.

The confusion was back. She didn't know what to do, so they talked for her. It wasn't the best conversation in the world, but the longer they talked the more relaxed she got. Until her manager pounded on the wall near the curtain and told her to get her ass back on stage.

Her shoulders slumped for a brief moment before her mask came back on.

They paid her and went to leave.

She must have counted the money because she tried to give some back. Said it was too much, that she didn't deserve it. Tony only gave her a small smile and a wink.

That was how their visits progressed. She'd dance on stage and then they would have their chats. As time went, she got more and more comfortable with them. And they were always careful, trying not to judge, and refusing to make her feel bad. There was obviously a reason she was doing this.

Eventually, though, they did learn why and it only made her stronger in their eyes.

Her mom was sick. Really sick. And Darcy (she even told them her real name) was doing everything in her power to make sure she'd get better. It wasn't the best diagnosis, but if there was even a chance she could get better? Well, here she was.

God, they wanted to help her, but they weren't sure how.

In return, for now, they told her about themselves. How Tony was now in charge of one of the biggest companies in the world. That Bruce spend most of his life cooped up in a lab until certain breakthroughs made him a household name (in houses where science was a thing). Tony shouldered the burden of living up to his father's image. Bruce gave lectures and speeches at schools all over the country, even though he hated public speaking.

Darcy would curl up on one of the chairs and listen attentively until she had to go back out.

They were late thanks to a meeting with his security staff that ran over, and Tony was pissed.

If she had gone home before they got there, someone would be fired.

Bruce tried to calm him down, but he knew exactly how he felt. Somewhere along the way both men had developed feelings for this woman. For Darcy. Darcy who would do something she hated to help save someone she loved. Who would sacrifice herself, selflessly, without question.

She was an amazing woman and they both wanted her. Wanted to keep her safe, take care of her, so she'd never have to take off her clothes for money again.

Jesus, they were lovesick fools and they knew it.

They could hear the sounds of the fight as they got closer to the entrance. The louder it got the more nervous they felt. Darcy was in there, they were sure.

Tony looked at Bruce and they each took a deep breath, ready to face whatever the hell was going on inside. There was no hesitation because they had to make sure she was okay.

And holy shit. What the _fuck_ was happening in here?

Bottles and bodies were flying. Punches were being thrown. And, yes, someone did just break a stool over the back of the manager.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"There!" Bruce shouted, pointing.

Tony had to squint his eyes but he saw it. Her. Crouched down on the floor, on hand touching the wall and the other over her head, was Darcy. Clearly she was trying to get out of there but wasn't having much luck. They could see from where they were that her hair was wet and they really hoped it was just water. Or beer.

It took less than ten seconds for them to be by her side and another five for Tony to determine that maybe he shouldn't have just pulled her up like that. The look of terror on her face was heartbreaking. Thank god for the relief that followed.

Wait, was that _blood_ on her face?

Her plea for help got them moving and they were able to exit the club without any more injuries.

Tony led them away from the melee and towards his car (which he always parked a few blocks away), he didn't even think of going anywhere else.

When Bruce mentioned going home and she started to pull away, Tony made his decision. He wasn't much for thinking things through, but Bruce didn't stop him and she said yes anyway.

They took her home.

* * *

What do you think? I really hope I got Tony and Bruce right.

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	3. Chapter 3

Once she was in their car and the adrenaline started to wear off, she started wondering if this was really a good idea. Yeah, she knew them, but she didn't really _know _them.

It didn't count that she maybe, kind of, a little bit, wanted to jump them. And hug them. And make them many baked goods for them.

Okay, that shouldn't count, but it did. Plus, they did kind of save her life. If they didn't care she was sure they would have just turned around at the first sign of the brawl and leave her to her fate.

Even so.

She started fiddling with the strap on her bag as she looked out the front window (Bruce insisted she sit in the front). "Um, really, you can just drop me off at my place."

Tony slanted her a look from the corner of his eye as he deftly maneuvered the car around a slower one in front of them. "Is that what you really want?"

Darcy opened her mouth to say yes, because that would be the smart thing, but…

"No, not it's not," she muttered, leaning her head against the window. She could see Bruce's reflection in the rear view mirror and she couldn't quite read his expression. It was soft with a touch of sympathy, but filled with something akin to longing. She didn't know what to make of it. Wasn't used to people looking at her like that.

She looked away.

The rest of the drive was done in silence and before she knew it, she was being led through the door of Tony's palatial penthouse. Clearly she zoned out of a bit because she didn't even remember getting out of the car or being in an elevator and holy shit this place was amazing.

Darcy stood in the entry way and just _stared_. She really couldn't help it, and it probably wasn't the most polite thing to do but _jesus christ_. This was a far cry from her dinky little apartment and she made a mental note to explore later.

"Here you go, sweetheart, figured you'd want to change," Bruce spoke softly and handed her a small pile of clothes. It was then that she remembered she was still in her clothes from the club and she was covered in sticky, drying beer.

Ew.

She took the pile, her hand brushing his as she did and she resolutely ignored the little spark that she felt. The only indication that he had felt it as well was the small smile that worked its way onto his face. She loved all his smiles.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Can I, uh, shower by any chance? I'm pretty gross right about now and I don't want to ruin anything by touching it with gross beer fingers." She looked down at herself, pretending to take stock of her appearance, but really not wanting to see the look in his eyes when he realized what it was that he brought home.

She should have gone back to her apartment.

Bruce stepped to stand next to her and slowly slid his arm around her waist, his handed rested on her hip and he gave it a gentle squeeze. He started walking down the hall with her. "Of course you can, but Tony just wants to take a quick look at your face first."

Her head came up at that, brows furrowed. "Why?" She was pretty sure he knew what she looked like and didn't know why he'd need a closer look.

The look in his eyes was sad when he said, "You're bleeding."

One of her hands came up automatically to check and she was surprised to see blood on the tips of her fingers. Oh god. Glass from the bottle must have cut her and she was too focused on staying alive to notice. Her stomach rolled and her hand started shaking.

Bruce noticed. "You're okay now. You're safe. Take a deep breath. Please, Darcy, you're safe. I promise." He ushered her into the kitchen and sat her down, kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees.

Her hands were on her thighs and she could see them shaking. She clenched her fists to try to get them to stop. When that didn't work, she tried focusing on Bruce's hands. On her knees. She took a deep breath.

"I'm fine," her voice came louder than she meant it too and she cringed.

"Of course you're fine, we got you," Tony said as he sauntered over to the two of them with a damp towel in his hands. He nudged Bruce out of the way and he went easily, leaning against the counter. Tony took his place on the floor before her and slowly reached up to wipe at her cheek. His touch was gentle as he wiped at the drying blood. Tony took his time and seemed to linger on purpose. She gave up on not looking at him after about ten seconds and then their eyes locked. He looked determined, with a clenched jaw and fire in his eyes. Darcy was honestly too tired to try and figure it all out.

All too soon he took the towel away and leaned back on his heels, studying her. He nodded. "Thankfully not a deep cut, just bled like a sonofabitch. Jesus, you scared me, Darcy." Tony looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it. "C'mon, I'll show you the bathroom so you can clean up. A shower will probably make you feel a little better."

Darcy had to shallow hard before answering, "Thank you." She wanted to say more, too, but she didn't know what words to use.

Tony led her into what definitely had to be the master bedroom and tried not to be too obvious in her perusal. The room was gorgeous. Large and airy with rich mahogany furniture, soft gray walls and floor to ceiling windows along one wall. And, oh man, did that bed look comfy. Just looking at it reminded her of her exhaustion and she stifled the yawn that followed.

Tony had stopped at a door on her left and she flushed when she realized he had been watching her take in her surroundings.

Well that's embarrassing. Let's just pretend that didn't happen, shall we?

She held her head up as if she hasn't been caught practically salivating at the room (and comfy looking bed) and preceded him into the equally amazing bathroom. A bathroom that was basically the size of her apartment.

Her head hurt.

"You okay?" Tony asked from his place in the doorway.

She nodded even though she wasn't sure it was true.

He didn't push the issue, thankfully. "There are towels in that closet and you can use the shampoo and stuff that's in there. We can get you some of your own tomorrow, if you want. Take as long as you need, we'll get you something to eat while you're in here. You, uh, don't have any allergies or anything, do you?" He started off strong and reassuring but ended a little unsure.

He was probably regretting brining a fucking stripper home, she told herself, but she was too selfish to turn down a hot shower and food. She couldn't remember the last time she was able to use hot water and she was seriously surprised her stomach hasn't starting making noise yet.

Darcy turned her head to look at him and muttered, "No allergies. Really, if I can just have some toast, that'd be fine. I'm not that hungry." He was already doing so much, _too much_, and she didn't want to impose.

Her stomach growled, loudly, and he cocked an eyebrow in response. "I think we can find you something better than toast. Bruce is a really good cook and whatever he makes is fucking delicious. We like you too much to subject you to my culinary expertise. Go. Shower. Come out whenever you're ready."

He left her alone, closing the door behind him, and as soon as it was shut, she sagged against the counter.

Oh god, what was she even doing?

Shower. She was going to take a shower and not think for five minutes, that's what she was going to do.

Five minutes turned into twenty before she reluctantly stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself.

Could she marry that shower? Was that a thing people did? Could it be?

She took her time drying off and wringing out her hair. The bathroom was comfortably warm from the heat and steam from the water and she just wanted to melt to the floor. Her stomach growled again before she could give in to temptation. She got dressed in the borrowed, and way too big for her, clothes and threw her hair up in a towel (it wouldn't do to drip onto the probably very expensive carpets).

Her hand trembled with sudden nerves when she went to open the bathroom door. Were they already second guessing letting her in their private sanctuary? She prayed to whatever gods there were that she wasn't going to walk out there and be greeted with a, "hey here's a sandwich for the road" because god damn it, she was attracted to the two of them. She wanted to bask in their attention like a cat does with the sun.

And fuck, how cheesy did that sound?

Not giving herself any more time to overthink things, she twisted the nob and stepped back into the bedroom.

She heard their voices as she walked into the hallway.

"Think she'll stay?" That was Tony.

A sigh answered him. "I don't know. But whatever decision she makes, you let it be. I mean it, Tony. No guilt, or ego, trips."

She paused. It would be rude to listen in, right? Even if they were talking about her?

"God, Bruce, she has to. I can't…did you see what happened tonight? Can't lose her. Won't."

Darcy bit her lip.

"I know, Tony, I don't want her to go either but we can't exactly kidnap her." Clearly Bruce was the voice of reason.

"Oh, kidnapping! That's a good idea!" Darcy tried very hard to not laugh at the eager tone is his voice.

Bruce sighed again, an exasperated sound. "I said _no_ kidnapping. Jesus, you're like a kid with their toy. Tony –"

"But I love my toy, Brucie, and I know you do, too."

Darcy's eyes went wide. Oh my.


End file.
